Always Gold
by Indythewolf
Summary: Obi Wan Kenobi doesn't do emotions. Ever. It's just not his thing. And that's never been a problem because he's a Jedi - he's not supposed to have to do that. Other Jedi don't do emotions either, but of course other Jedi don't have padawans like Anakin Skywalker. Or: 5 times Obi Wan was there for Anakin and 1 time Anakin returned the favor.
1. Chapter 1

1) Anakin (10) has a nightmare and goes to Obi Wan for comfort. Unfortunately, that is one skill Obi Wan has yet to master (he wishes Qui Gon were here).

**Author's Note: Y'all I love these two too much. It's a problem.**

**Title of the fic is taken from the song 'Always Gold' by Radical Face. Listen to it and think about Anakin and Obi Wan if you want to cry. :(**

He's out of his depth. Totally and completely in over his head. And it's keeping him up at night.

To be fair, Obi Wan hasn't slept through the night since Qui Gon's death 6 months ago. He's plagued with nightmares, vivid enough to send him stumbling out of bed to expel the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He wants to believe it's getting better - but the truth is the only reason the nightmares have abated is because he's abandoned all hope of sleeping.

It's not like he doesn't have enough to do already. Instead of laying in bed and letting his emotions creep up on him, he keeps himself busy with paper work, filling out mission reports and reading about how to strengthen his connection with the force. He still hasn't even finished his padawan training (though he told Master Windu that he was 3 chapters ahead of where he actually is) even though he's already technically a master.

Not only that - he's now a teacher himself. Expected to lead Anakin - the one they are calling The Chosen One - to become a powerful Jedi too. The implications of that are almost enough to send his head spiraling.

_Keep it together_, he hisses at himself, reaching out to the force to steady his emotions. Not only has he not finished his written lessons, but he's regressed in his mental training as well. Since Qui Gon died, his emotional balance has been thrown off. The grief hits him hard and suddenly, almost knocks him off his feet at the most inopportune times, but that's nothing compared to the rage. It comes to him on nights like this, lurks behind him until it's close enough to wrap cold hands around his throat, to pull him back towards the blackness.

He knows it's the dark side. It calls to him. And it scares him. But when he closes his eyes all he can see is Maul's light saber, and he finds himself itching to grab his own.

There's a noise down the hall and Obi Wan glances up from his papers, shaking his head once to clear the dark thoughts.

_Enough of that now_, Qui Gon's voice speaks in his head, _self-pity never gets anyone anywhere. _

He listens for a beat more to see if the sound will come again, but there's nothing but silence from the hallway. He glances at the clock - 1300. Anakin is probably up reading, and so Obi Wan should tell him to go to sleep. The thought of that is so mundane, so parental, that Obi Wan mulls over it for a minute. Back when he was Anakin's age he was scolded often for staying up late to read the old texts, or to collaborate with the other younglings. But he's 26 now, and he doesn't sleep at all.

_If Qui Gon were here_, he thinks with a humorless smile, _he'd chew us both out._

None the less, this is his duty now. He gets up and stretches and takes his now empty coffee mug to the sink. It makes a slight clatter when he places it amongst the other dishes, and it must be loud enough to mask the sound of footprints, because he turns around to find Anakin standing in the entrance to the hall. Obi Wan starts, unused to not being able to sense someone approaching through the force. But his padawan has not yet mastered his own force signature, and most of the time even Obi Wan can't connect with him. When he can, all he gets is static and confusion. Sometimes he's relieved that he doesn't have to feel the boy's emotions on top of his own, other times he's concerned. He knows that Qui Gon could connect with Anakin, though his master never told him that directly. He could see it in the way Anakin had grieved for him. He can see it when Anakin looks at him - in the thinly veined disappointment in his eyes. _I'm not the master that you wanted._

"Master?" The boy's voice is quiet, but it rings loud in the otherwise silent kitchen.

"Yes, Anakin?" Obi Wan tries to sound stern, but his voice just sounds exasperated, "Why are you up at this hour?"

"I-" the boy shifts on his feet, fiddles with the hem of his night shirt, "I just-um.."

His voice wavers, and its then that Obi Wan really takes in his appearance. His padawan looks nervous, eyes cast towards the floor, and his hair is messy from sleep. There are dark circles around his eyes and his cheeks are red and blotchy. He's trembling.

"It's nothing," he finally mumbles, "I just couldn't sleep and heard you out here. I'm sorry to have disturbed you." He goes to turn around and Obi Wan calls out to him.

"Wait."

Anakin stops but doesn't turn back to look at him. His shoulders shake.

Obi Wan sighs, rubbing his fingers over his tired eyes. He closes the distance between them quickly and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder, turning him around to face him.

The tears glistening on Anakin's cheeks are not a surprise. Obi Wan sighs again, "Oh, Anakin."

"I'm sorry," his apprentice mutters, bringing his fist up to wipe at his eyes, "I just," he sniffs, "I just had a bad dream; it's stupid."

Obi Wan kneels down so that they can be eye level with one another. He keeps a firm grip on his padawan's shoulder. "Listen," he says, "It's not stupid if it's troubling you. You should come to me for help, Anakin. Emotions like this can be dangerous when bottled up. They can be weapons of the dark side."

_Tell that to yourself_, Qui Gon says in his head. _Whatever_, Obi Wan shoots back childishly. He'll deal with his subconscious' pestering in the morning.

Anakin nods at him fervently, blinking the tears out of his eyes. "I know, Master, I'm sorry."

Obi Wan shakes his head, "Don't apologize. Now, do you want to tell me what it is that you were dreaming about?"

He can see the turmoil within the boy's eyes, can see him debating whether or not he's willing to open up. He finds he's able to feel it too - he can sense Anakin's distress through the force.

_Huh_, he thinks, _that's new._

But he might as well put it to good use. He reaches out mentally as well, trying to offer feelings of openness, of non-judgement, though with the way his own emotions have been frayed lately he's not sure how it will come across.

Anakin seems receptive though, because he starts talking. "My mother," he says, voice wavering, "I was back on Tatooine, but because I'd left, they'd-they'd..."

He tells the whole story, a disturbing anecdote about hunger, torture, and other things that a boy Anakin's age should have no knowledge of. By the end of it's he's crying again, the air around them thick with his fear and despair. Obi Wan feels lost in the shear strength of it for a moment, overwhelmed with thoughts of what this _child_ has had to endure.

His own words come back to him for a moment, something he'd said to Qui Gon when the older Jedi had first taken Anakin under his wing:

_"He's just a civilian master, not even, he's a _slave_. He's not cut out to be a Jedi, and he's too old."_

_Qui Gon had given him an odd look then, something akin to disappointment in his eyes, and Obi Wan had felt angry and reprimanded. More than anything he'd felt jealous of Anakin - the boy from nowhere who'd so quickly gained the interest of his master, of the whole Jedi council. But then Qui Gon's lips had quirked into a smile. "I think you're wrong, padawan. It is not experience, or age, that makes a Jedi. It is spirit. Only time will tell what young Anakin can become."_

Obi Wan cups a hand behind Anakin's neck and pulls him forward against his chest. He's not really one to hug, and he can tell that the boy is surprised by the muffled 'hmph' he gives as his head thunks against Obi Wan's robes. The older Jedi takes a deep breath to steady himself. He's had a plentiful amount of despair himself recently, but surprisingly he doesn't feel burdened by his padawan's troubles. He thinks he gets in now, what Qui Gon - and what the other masters - saw in Anakin. The strength and resilience that lurk in the boy's blue eyes.

"It's alright," he whispers, suddenly feeling like he knows what to say, like he knows what Qui Gon would've done if it was him who was crying in the middle of the night, "You don't have to be invincible, you know. It's alright to dream. But that's all they are, little one, just dreams."

He keeps his arms wrapped around Anakin's shoulders until his apprentice has stopped shivering, until he can no longer feel the silent sobs running through him. Anakin steps away from him, though he keeps a grip on one of Obi Wan's sleeves. With his other hand, he reaches up and wipes the remnants of tears from his face. When he meets his master's eyes again, his blue gaze is steely, determined.

"Yes, Master," he whispers, "I know. Sorry to have disturbed you, I'll go back to bed now." Obi Wan opens his mouth to say something else - determined not to let this one chance he has to connect with the kid slip away - but just like that Anakin's force signature is gone, replaced with the chilled air of the room, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Obi Wan swallows and stands, watching his apprentice pad back down the hall towards his room. "You do that," he says in his best teacher voice, "We've got training in the morning, and I don't want to see you slacking off!"

He turns to head back to his paper work but then stops and calls back over his shoulder, "And Anakin -"

"Hmm?"

"Know that I'm...I'm here. If you ever need me. I may not have all the answers but- but you are my padawan. I'll help you with everything I can."

Anakin turns back and smiles at him, a sleepy grin that lights up his sky blue eyes, and for the first time in months Obi Wan feels like he can breath, like the crushing weight on his chest has gotten a little bit lighter.

"Thank you, Master."

The boy disappears back into his room, and Obi Wan sinks back into his desk chair, fiddling with the edge of one of his readings.

When he wakes up in the morning, he's slept for 6 hours straight and drooled on his essays. Anakin brings him a bowl of dry cereal with an amused look, and he finds that, at least today, the grief has faded further away.


	2. Chapter 2

**2) Anakin (12) hits his head while training, and Obi Wan insists on carrying him back to the Temple. Because it's what any responsible master would do. Really.**

"You should have just left me to die."

Obi Wan stifles a groan for what feels like the 6th time in the last 15 minutes. "Really, padawan? We're almost there."

Anakin ignores him, "It would be better than this torture." He shifts around on Obi Wan's back, hands clasped loosely together across the older Jedi's chest. "I can _walk_, you know." He says for at least the millionth time.

Except Obi Wan knows that's a lie, because when the kid had tried to demonstrate that ability earlier, he'd promptly collapsed into the dirt. And the weary tone in his voice now doesn't indicate that he's doing any better.

"Yes, Anakin," Obi Wan concedes, because he knows when to pick his battles, "Just humor your master on this one, will you? It would be much more embarrassing for you to walk into the Jedi Temple and promptly faint like a damsel."

"I don't faint," Anakin snaps back, although his tumble earlier had come suspiciously close to what could be considered 'fainting'. "And no it wouldn't be." He raises one of his hands and bats it lightly against Obi Wan's chest, "I'm not going to be able to show my face at the Temple for a week after this!"

"At least you'll be alive to endure such judgement."

Anakin groans again, "I'll never hear the end of it!"

"Well maybe not," Obi Wan agrees, "But I'd certainly never hear the end of it if I got my padawan killed, now would I?"

He'd meant for it to be a joke, but the words come out a little too heavy. Anakin falls silent for a beat. "I'm not gonna die, Master."

Obi Wan swallows, the image of his apprentice lying still against the rocks, blood smeared dark against his blond hair, is something that he doesn't think he'll be able to shake out of his mind. He forces more lightness into his tone, "No, you're not. Because I'm going to carry you straight to the healing halls."

"No way!" Anakin yells directly into his ear. Obi Wan winces, shifts the boy's weight across his sore shoulders. "That's all the way across the tower!"

"Yes, so I'd appreciate if you could stop squirming around. You're heavy, you know. And it seems we've got a ways to go yet."

"You're insane!" Obi Wan only has a second to react before the kid lets go of his shoulders and pushes off of him, nearly sending both of them to the ground.

"Anakin!" he hisses, barely steadying himself before he ends up with his face in the dirt. He turns to yell at his incessantly stubborn padawan, but the annoyance in his chest dies immediately when he sees the way the boy is swaying on his feet.

He reaches out quickly, grabbing Anakin by the forearm just before he can topple over completely. "Hey!"

Anakin brings his free arm up to his head, wincing as his fingers graze the still oozing gash in his forehead. He groans, blinking.

"Hey-" Obi Wan says again, letting go of Anakin's arm and clasping him on the shoulder instead, making sure that he's steady, "Are you alright?"

It takes a minute longer than Obi Wan would like for the boy to look up at him, but when he does his eyes are clear, if a little pained. "Yeah," he whispers, sounding breathless.

"Are you dizzy?" Obi Wan presses him.

Anakin seems to ponder this question for a moment, then gives a hesitant nod. "A little," he swallows visibly, "I feel kind of nauseous."

"Alright, let's sit down for a minute." Obi Wan leads him over to the shade of a nearby tree, thankful that they are still about a mile out from the main part of the Temple, and that this part of the path isn't highly populated.

Anakin has barely has time to settle in against the tree before he turns suddenly to the side, shoulders heaving as he throws up all he'd eaten for dinner earlier.

Obi Wan winces in sympathy, kneeling down and laying a hand against the boy's back tentatively. Maybe its not such a good thing that they're alone out here after all. It's becoming clearer to him just how badly the kid needs to see a healer.

Anakin leans back against the tree heavily, rubbing his wrist across his mouth. His hand is shaking. "I'm sorry." he whispers, voice hoarse.

Obi Wan feels another pang of guilt, "It's alright. Let me look at your head."

He reaches out a hand hesitantly, and, when Anakin doesn't slap it away, gently cards it through the boy's blond hair, trying to gauge the extent of the swelling underneath without touching the actual wound.

"Oww…"

"Sorry. This looks bad, Anakin. The sooner we get you to the healers, the better."

"Yeah, it _feels_ bad too." Anakin finally musters up the energy to slap Obi Wan's arm, and the older Jedi obliges, pulling it back and instead looking his padawan over head-to-toe. Anakin has his eyes squeezed shut. He's breathing kind of hard.

Obi Wan decides that enough is enough.

He throws an arm around the kid's shoulders and nudges him upward. "Alright, come on."

Anakin cracks open an eye to glare at him but does not move.

"Lets go, padawan."

"Just give me a second!"

The sun is setting on the horizon, and Obi Wan can see the silhouette of the Temple and its towers against the burnt orange sky. The main diplomatic buildings will be closing soon and it'll be that much harder for them to get to the medical wing. He decides the situation is dire enough to pull out the big guns. "I thought you said you could walk?"

Anakin opens his eyes fully at that, if only to glare daggers at his master. "I _can_!"

Obi Wan pushes himself up and takes a step back. Keeps his tone neutral. "Then do so."

Anakin rolls his eyes, but, sure enough, his bull-headedness is enough to do what Obi Wan's prompting could not. He grabs a low hanging branch and uses it to yank himself to his feet, grip tightening against it as soon as he's level. Obi Wan is on the balls of his feet, ready to bounce forward and catch him if he falls, but it doesn't come to that.

Anakin keeps his grip on the branch for another second and then lets go, takes a tentative step forward. There's a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. But he's as steady as ever. Obi Wan allows himself to smile.

"I told you, Master."

"I stand corrected." He gestures up the path ahead of them, "Now come on. You can impress the healers with your ability to balance when we get to them."

For the first time all night, Anakin doesn't argue with him about the healers. He supposes that it's because the boy is focusing his energy on staying upright, but that's not exactly a comforting thought.

He falls into step behind Anakin, making sure that he's close enough to grab him if he falls.

But, true to his word, Anakin makes it back to the Temple on his own steam. Obi Wan is feeling lighter about the whole situation as they start up the steps to the padawan tower and the healing halls. It always seems to feel like his intestines are twisted up in themselves whenever his padawan gets injured, but there's a big, important difference between Anakin being a little beat up after a sparring match and being completely unresponsive.

"Say, Anakin," he ventures playfully, "If you hadn't of ruined our good-natured sparring by bashing your head, I would've won, don't you think?"

Anakin doesn't respond, and, maybe Obi Wan had let himself relax about this situation a little too soon, because the next thing he knows the boy is pitching backwards off the step in front of him.

Obi Wan curses, barely managing to lunge forward and catch him before his head makes contact with a slab of solid rock for the second time that night. He drops to one knee, Anakin's head lolling against his chest, eyes fluttering beneath closed lids.

Obi Wan's heart stutters. He finds he can barely catch his breath, giving his padawan a slight shake in his arms, "Hey, Anakin."

Anakin shifts his head, groaning, but he doesn't open his eyes.

Obi Wan swallows, "Alright, kid." He keeps one hand around Anakin's shoulders and slides the other under his legs, lifting him up into a bridal-carry and grunting slightly under the added weight. Still, he thinks, he's not too heavy.

He walks the next few yards to the healing ward as quickly as he dares, tightening his grip when Anakin starts to shift against him.

The boy gives a low whine, one hand coming up to rub at his forehead. "M-master…?" he asks weakly, "We make it back?"

"Yeah, kid," Obi Wan whispers against his hair, "You did good."

Anakin hums in approval, leans back into his chest. Obi Wan thinks for a minute that he could hold on to this kid forever, that he could never be too heavy.

**-((LINEBREAK))-**

As Anakin had worried, there _are_ rumors spreading around the Temple the next day. But they're not about him.

Obi Wan has to bite his tongue when Mace Windu questions him about carrying sleeping younglings through the padawan tower, and he glares over the older master's shoulder at Bant Eerin, who is unsuccessfully trying to stifle her giggles.

Yeah, he's not sure he'll ever hear the end of this.

**A/N: Wowee, another cheesy story with a cheesy ending from yours truly. Who would've guessed? As always thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

3) After a training fight goes wrong, Anakin (14) ends up in the infirmary. Obi Wan is trying (unsuccessfully) to not freak out, and, oh, to figure out what to say to his teenage padawan that seems to have self-destructive tendencies.

**A/N: If anyone is actually paying attention to this story, you may notice that I published this chapter before and then removed it. Which I did because it was way too long and unmanageable. I was able to cut it down a bit and get it to where I like it, but it was still harder to write than the last two. Anyways sorry if it seems too long-winded. :P Thanks for reading!**

He's actually in the middle of a council meeting when he gets the hologram, and the look on Mace Windu's face when he hastily excuses himself from the room is nothing short of comical. In fact, he probably would have gotten a kick out of it had his entire heart not been lodged in his throat.

All Bant had said in her message was that Anakin was in the med bay and he needed to get down there asap. She may have given him a few other details but after that everything had been drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

He passes a group of padawans in the hallway and has to force himself to slow down, gritting his teeth. He needed to be in the Healing Halls, like, yesterday.

It wasn't like this was a completely unusual occurrence. Anakin was an enthusiastic, albeit rebellious padawan, and his heroic stunts had landed him (and Obi Wan, thank you) in the med bay several times over the last year. The older Jedi had almost gotten used to these messages from Bant, and he'd almost gotten used to sauntering down to the infirmary to find his ward with his arm in a cast and/or bandages all over him, smiling sheepishly.

_"You should've seen me, Master, I almost had the whole other team pinned down," _or, of course_, "You should see the other guy!"_

But this time was different - this time, the younglings had been practicing their swordsmanship with real lightsabers, and this time Bant had told him to hurry. She'd said the words 'serious condition', though once again Obi Wan had been too distracted by the wave of fear those words brought to hear her elaboration.

He rounds the corner towards the med bay so fast that he almost runs into a group of nurses heading out for lunch. The way they look at him tells him all he needs to know about his own appearance; they gaze at him with irritation, confusion, and lastly pity. Surely they've seen this before: a concerned family member or teammate come to find one of their patients. Surely they've seen that look many times right before they had to give bad news.

Obi Wan swallows and scans the waiting room for Bant. He hopes that this isn't one of those times, and that he isn't one of those people.

_Force, Anakin, what have you done this time?_

Breathing hard, he stumbles his way up to the reception desk, peering behind the young Coruscanti desk clerk to see if he can catch sight of Bant. No luck. The only thing that he can see of the actual med ward is the chaos of the healing staff hustling around, the blur as gurneys and carts are pushed quickly by. The receptionist, a dark-complected woman with frown lines around her lips, shoots him an annoyed look. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes," Obi Wan fumbles with his words, "I'm here looking for Anakin Skywalker. He's my padawan. I got word that he'd been injured."

The woman purses her lips, looks him up and down as if she's trying to decide whether or not she believes him. Or whether he was worth her time at all. Obi Wan is close to losing his cool and snapping at her when she gives a brief nod and stands, gesturing towards the door, "Of course. Follow me."

He almost slouches with relief, but settles instead for trying to regain some of his Jedi composure and _walking_ to meet her at the entrance.

_Hang on, Anakin_, he reaches out to his apprentice through their still somewhat shaky force bond, _I'll be there soon_. He knows that kind of message is sentimental, and not very composed-Jedi-master like at all, but if he's being honest with himself he needs the reassurance just as much as his padawan might. If he could just connect with Anakin somehow, get a feel or something to tell him that his apprentice is still _alive, _then maybe his heart would stop doing leaps against his chest.

He's still following the receptionist through what seems like a maze of healing halls when he gets a faint response. It's nothing specific, in fact, Obi Wan doesn't even think it's directed at him, but he can definitely feel his padawan's force presence. It's not Anakin's usual bright source of energy, but it's not weak or sickly either, just different.

It takes Obi Wan a confusing moment to realize exactly what he's sensing from the boy: darkness. The turmoil lurking behind Anakin's mental walls is a mix of anger and remorse, a maelstrom of self-deprecation. And it's so out of character for his energetic apprentice that it almost stops Obi Wan in his tracks right there.

He takes a deep breath, tries to reason with himself. Anakin always takes things hard, always _feels _so strongly; maybe this tide of negative emotions is just another form of his usual teenage melancholy?

_At least it means he's alive_, Obi Wan thinks with more than a little relief, _and most likely conscious_.

The receptionist, Nevah, he finally sees on her name tag, stops outside of a room and gestures to the door. "Skywalker's in here," she's says, lips pursing into a frown, "If he's asleep, don't linger. He's been quite the nuisance for us today, and we've been waiting for him to conk out. Oh, and he needs the rest."

Obi Wan gives her a sincere, grateful smile. If Anakin is well enough to be giving the healers trouble, then surely things can't be too bad.

He takes another deep breath to prepare himself before pushing his way into the room.

It doesn't get any easier, seeing his teenage padawan pale and in bed in the infirmary, with dark circles under his eyes and the unmistakable twinge of exhaustion in his force signature. But Obi Wan is relieved to find Anakin sitting up and awake, albeit drowsy, with just an IV in his arm and a stark white bandage peeking through the side of his gray infirmary robes. He has an oxygen-monitor attached to one of the fingers on his left hand, and there are a few screens on the side of the bed that seem to be portraying his vitals.

From his vantage point by the door, Obi Wan can just make out the medication name on the IV bag – a low dose pain killer that he recognizes from his own padawan days. It's commonly used with lightsaber burns.

It's obvious that its working on Anakin, because when he looks up at Obi Wan his blue eyes are just slightly more clouded, pupils wide and black. But other than that he seems fairly coherent; he seems _okay_.

"_Hey_," Obi Wan breaths, unable to keep the mixture of relief and lingering panic out of his voice. There will be time for lecturing and teaching later - right now he just needs to make sure the kid's alright. He wonders briefly if that makes him a bad Jedi master? Mace Windu would surely think less of him for putting Anakin's momentary well-being over the greater good of his teaching and _the Jedi Code. _But Windu's not here right now, and it's not his kid in an infirmary bed.

Anakin gives him a tired smile, the emotional turmoil that Obi Wan had sensed from him early fading a little further away in the force. "Master!" His voice is softened slightly by the drugs in his system, "What are you doing here?"

Obi Wan is more than a little breathless from how hard his heart's been beating against his rib cage. He tries to consciously slow his breathing to calm his nerves. "Master Eerin told me you were injured during training."

"Oh," something crosses Anakin's face quickly - a dark shadow in his eyes, but then he blinks and it's gone. Instead, he looks back up at his master with a sheepish smile, "I guess I did. But I would have won the spar if Padawan Tulí hadn't cheated!"

Obi Wan sighs, his adrenaline finally abating and giving way to exasperation. If Anakin is well enough to make his typical kind of arrogant statements, then he's well enough to be berated for it.

"Anakin," he starts, "That is exactly the kind of attitude that gets you into these kinds of messes."

Anakin's self-satisfied grin morphs into a scowl, "What? I'm just taking my training seriously."

"You know that's not what I mean. And you know that's not what this is about."

His apprentice sits up a little straighter, wincing as the movement pulls on his injured side. Obi Wan feels just a twinge of guilt about lecturing him while he's obviously still in some pain, but the next words out of the kid's mouth remedy that fairly quickly.

"What _is_ it about then? How I'm just wasting everyone's time by trying to be the best in my class? How it's so thoughtless of me to actually try to _learn_ something?"

"Yes, actually, all of those things," Obi Wan growls back petulantly, "Your superiority complex, for one. Why you feel the need to always stand out - be the center of attention - whether that's through _actually_ doing well, or, as in this case, just blatantly disobeying orders!"

He runs a hand through his hair in exasperation, mind already trying to formulate a response to the quip he's sure Anakin will shoot back at him, but all that meets him is silence.

Surprised by the uncharacteristic lack of retaliation, he looks back up at his padawan, startled to see the unaltered anger in Anakin's eyes. They're arguing, sure, but this isn't the first time they've been at odds. Especially not over Anakin's training. Surely the boy knows that Obi Wan's been worried, frantic even, and that lecturing Anakin is the only thing he can do to try and make things feel more normal?

And besides, this _is_ how Obi Wan teaches, as unorthodox as it may seem to some of the older council members. Anakin Skywalker is too powerful, too head strong, and simply too _different_ from the other padawans to adhere to the same strict lessons as those given to the kids raised from birth in the temple.

Obi Wan learned a long time ago that the best way for Anakin to learn a lesson was to learn it himself. Even at 9, when Obi Wan had first taken him on as his ward, Anakin had been stubbornly reckless, sometimes _heroically_ so (though Obi Wan would be the last to admit that). And the best way to actually teach him caution and restraint was after he'd already thrown them both to the wind.

And just as Obi Wan had gotten used to his padawan's particular style of learning, so should Anakin have grown accustomed to this type of lecture from his Master. Had he honestly thought that Obi Wan would just let this one go? If that was the case - maybe he'd scrambled his head in the sparring match too.

He's about to open his mouth to ask about just that when Anakin beats him to it.

"Fine," the teen snaps, and there's a layer of emotion in his voice that has Obi Wan scanning his face in alarm, it almost sounds like he's on the verge of tears. But Anakin's eyes are clear, and they bore back into Obi Wan's own with a sharp glare - nothing short of wrath. If the older Jedi hadn't already been so focused on keeping his emotions in check, he might've reeled back at the sheer intensity of it.

Anakin's force signature has folded into itself now too - locked down behind his mental walls.

_Great_, thinks Obi Wan, _there's really no getting through to him now. _

"If you really think that, I guess I'll just stop trying then!" Anakin continues, voice dripping with ice, "No point in striving to be the best when I can never do anything right anyways!"

"Anakin-"

"Why are you here then, huh? I didn't ask you to come see me. To come tell me what I already know! I _told _them not to contact you! If I wanted to hear another lecture – I'd have called you myself!"

His face is red now, and one of the monitors to his left gives a small beep, the blipping of the EKG moving just a little faster than earlier. Obi Wan puts out a hand in a placating gesture, even as the kid's words send a pang of hurt through his chest. _Had he really asked them not to call him?_

"And now I guess they all know, huh? How I messed up again? How I've proved - once again - that _I'm_ the class screw-up? How I'll _never_ be what they want me to be?"

Obi Wan knows that there's more to this than his apprentice is letting on – knows that it stems from something deep-seated that has haunted the boy ever since Obi Wan had taken him on as a padawan. But he can't seem to pull his eyes away from Anakin's vitals quick enough to call him out on that. And all he can think is – _he'd really rather be down here, hurt and alone, than to have me at his side?_

The monitor stops beeping finally, all of the numbers back in the green, and Obi Wan looks back at his padawan's face.

Anakin runs a hand over his eyes, some of the heat gone out of his gaze now as it returns to Obi Wan's own. "Is that what you came down here to say to me? Huh, Master?"

"You mean how you're completely reckless in your training, how you disregard all the rules – as well as the teachings of your own master – and then act surprised when you get hurt in the process?"

"I-"

"No, Anakin, that's not why I'm here. That's true – all of it. And I can't for the life of me imagine why, as many times as I've said it, you've yet to _understand_. But that's not why I'm here. I came down here because Master Eerin told me you were injured – and it's my responsibility to make sure that you're safe."

He swallows, all of his earlier annoyance draining out of him.

_I told them not to contact you!_

What would he have done, if he'd gone home to an empty apartment and had to wonder. Had to think what could've happened.

Anakin just frowns up at him for a minute, then scoffs and spits out, "Sorry to be such a _burden_ to you, Master."

Obi Wan sighs for what feels like the millionth time in the last hour. "How could you have told them that?"

"What?"

"You said that you asked the healers not to contact me."

Anakin gives him a bemused look, seemingly disappointed in the fact that Obi Wan wasn't rising to the bait and shouting at him, "Of course I did," he mutters defeatedly, "I knew you were in a council meeting."

Obi Wan stares at him for a moment, a spark of real anger lighting in his chest, "_And?"_

"And I didn't think you – or the other masters – would appreciate the interruption?"

Obi Wan takes a deep breath, tries to call on the patience that this kid keeps trying to weed out of him. "I _don't appreciate_ getting vague messages from the healing halls about my padawan. Don't you think _that_ was an interruption to the council meeting?"

That was the wrong thing to say; Obi Wan can feel Anakin's force shields slam back into place, coating their bond in ice.

"I didn't want-"

"Don't you get it?" he yells, dropping his voice back down when he realizes that there's probably other patients nearby trying to sleep, "This _scares_ me, Anakin! I wish you'd stop doing things like this in training - not because I think you're a bad student but because I think you're going to get yourself killed! It's not going to matter if you're the best in the class if you're dead – is it?"

Anakin just looks at him for a minute, as if he's surprised to hear that Obi Wan would be concerned about his well-being without some ulterior motive. And that's another thing that Obi Wan has to pretend doesn't hurt. Maybe he's been an even worse teacher than he'd thought.

"I wasn't even _that_ injured." Anakin stresses, wringing his hands together over the blankets and looking almost subdued - a sharp contrast to the righteous indignation that had spilled out of him just a little while ago.

It's the same guarded sheepishness Obi Wan's seen in his apprentice time and again, usually after he pulls a stunt that could get him (and likely Obi Wan) kicked out of the Jedi Temple all together. He can't pretend it hasn't crossed his mind – that one day the call will come too late. That one of Anakin's stupid stunts for attention will go too far. That the galaxy will have to find a new 'chosen one'. And that he will have to live with the knowledge that he has _failed_ – as a master, as a Jedi, in every sense of the word.

He wishes he could say this to Anakin, but of course, not only would that make him a shoddy Jedi it would make him a bad master. That's not what the kid needs to hear.

"Yes, well, you and I have different definitions of what is and isn't a bad injury," he takes in the slump in Anakin's shoulders, the way he's blinking a bit more than before, and decides that a lecture – and anything else that they need to address – can wait. Instead, he forces the hint of a smile. "Besides, I do have a vested interest in that training lightsaber I let you borrow. I had to come down here myself to make sure it was still in one piece."

Anakin returns his smile at that, though there's a twinge of red in his cheeks. It's then that Obi Wan notices that he hasn't seen said lightsaber anywhere. And the kid's never supposed to be without it. "Anakin...what happened to my lightsaber?"

"It…may have run into some minor issues."

"_Anakin_!"

"Don't worry, Master!" Anakin hastily reassures him, waving a hand front of him, "I'm great with technology! I can put it back together in no time!"

"Don't even think about it! I don't want you anywhere _near_ a lightsaber for the next 10 years!"

"Master!" Anakin cries. But he's genuinely smiling now, and a little bit of the light has come back into his eyes. And Obi Wan feels like maybe this whole conversation wasn't such a disaster after all.

He turns to head back towards the door, "I'd better get back to that council meeting now, before they accuse me of 'neglecting my official responsibilities.'"

Anakin's voice stops him, "Oh come on! Can't you neglect them for a little while longer? I'm going to be bored out of my mind tonight - and Master Eerin says that she won't let me leave until tomorrow!"

He can hear what's unspoken behind the teen's words, and it stops him in the doorway.

Buthe has ignored the Jedi Code too many times today. And he really will be questioned, and his relationship with Anakin evaluated, if he chooses to stay here when his apprentice is in stable condition.

"You should be staying here much longer than just through tomorrow, padawan - as long as Master Eerin believes is necessary. And, unfortunately, my responsibility to the council is greater than my desire to join you in whatever antics you're sure to start up." He turns to address the boy one more time, leaning against the doorway and purposefully ignoring the disappointment he sees in his padawan's eyes. "And Anakin -"

"Yes?"

"Do rest. Your body needs time to heal. This isn't something that you can just bounce back from. It's high time you realize that you aren't invincible. Maybe if you heeded that knowledge sooner, this wouldn't have happened."

Anakin nods, blue eyes downcast, and Obi Wan feels the slightest tug in the force, their bond stuttering back to life. He feels a twinge of pride as well, maybe that means that Anakin is actually listening to him for once. That finally one of these hard-learned lessons is getting through to him. He hopes so. He's not sure how much more of this he can take.

**A/N: These just keep getting longer and longer and cheesier and cheesier. Oh well – it's too late now. I've already fallen down the rabbit hole so there's no point in trying to climb back out. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

4) Anakin (16) has been swamped with his padawan training on top of written school work, and Obi Wan is concerned that he hasn't been taking care of himself. Specifically, Obi Wan is pretty sure his padawan hasn't slept in the last week. It takes him much more effort than expected (and some more...drastic measures) to remedy this problem.

-Or-

Obi Wan drugs Anakin secretly and, when that doesn't work, has to put his powers of negotiation to the test.

**A/N: If you thought the last one was long – well, this one is over 5,000 words! If only I could write that much when writing essays for class! Funny how that works. Thanks for reading!**

Things in Obi Wan's life have been crazy lately – to say the least. For starters, he's just come back from a two week deployment to one of the outer-systems – a peace-keeping mission, luckily, but a grueling task none-the-less. He's glad to be home, but not glad to be greeted with all the paper work that's been left for him after he missed two council meetings and a senate hearing. Of course he'd had to miss them to ensure things "went as diplomatically as possible" (as Mace Windu had put it), but that didn't mean the council was going to cut him any slack.

He slumped down into his seat with a weary sigh, rubbing at a scar on his forehead. For as much as he enjoyed missions and the occasional change of scenery that they brought – once the thrill of space travel had worn off it left him feeling achy and tired. He'd just gotten off the shuttle a few hours ago and had hardly had time for a shower before Windu had pulled him aside to pile all this on him – and to give him a deadline in two days time.

"Kriff," he muttered to himself, eying the stack of papers to his left but unable to bring himself to start into it.

Sitting across the room from him, Anakin was in much the same position. The padawan student had his head down in a book, papers strewn all around the table and chairs beside him. He had one hand furiously drumming his pencil against the table, and the other tangled in this dark blonde hair.

Obi Wan glanced up at him, feeling more sympathetic than usual towards the teen's frustration. At least Anakin seemed to have started on his work. Which was more than his master could say at the moment.

With another long-suffering sigh, Obi Wan plucked the first page off the pile and spread it out before him, trying to keep the words from blurring in his tired eyes.

Oh yes, the Trade Federation and their proposal for a new merchant fleet…he could work on this…

_Thudthudthudthudthudthud_

Obi Wan spared another glance at his restless padawan. "Anakin."

_…_

He turned back to his work, jotting some notes alongside what the diplomatic head of the Federation had written. _Who do they think we are, _idiots_? No government in its right mind would agree to those term-_

_Thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud_

"Anakin! Could you please hold off on the pencil-tapping until I've had the chance to get through at least one form?"

His apprentice had the decency to look apologetic, sitting back from his work and yawning, "Sorry, Master. I'm wired, is all. Been working on these essays all day."

"Is that why you weren't there to greet me at the landing platform earlier?"

Anakin gave him a cheeky grin, "Were you looking for me?"

Obi Wan scoffed, "Hardly," he left the trade document on the desk and walked to where he could look over the boy's shoulder. "What are you working on?"

Anakin sighed, blinking tiredly and gesturing at the mess of papers. "It's uh…well it's math. Has to do with the innerworkings of the Force. And to be honest, it's really hard." He laughed, "I get the Force – I get it totally. When I'm fighting, whenever I need it – it's there and I know exactly what it's doing. But on paper it's a different story."

Obi Wan stroked his chin, pondering some of the scribbled figures in Anakin's notes. The material came back to him distantly, but it'd been a long time since he'd truly studied as a padawan. There were lots of things that young Jedi were trained for that benefitted them their entire career, and there were some things that they could never have been prepared for enough. But this stuff – the paper work and intricacies of the explanation behind it all – this was a mystery that Obi Wan no longer had time to ponder. As intriguing as it had been to him as a student, as it still was, it simply lacked importance when what really mattered was that you could use the Force when fighting for your life.

"Ah," he nodded to Anakin, "I remember."

"So you can help me?"

_Kriff_. He'd talked himself into a bad situation. He'd blame that on the exhaustion. "Likely not. It's been a long time since I've studied MacHerrod's principles."

Anakin sat back in his chair and looked up at him with the beginnings of a smirk, "You're saying you can't do it? That it's too _hard_ for you?"

He was like a shark that smelt blood, this kid.

"I could _do it_, padawan. It's just that I happen to have more important things on my plate right now then helping you with your homework."

Anakin grinned at him, "Whatever you say, Master."

_Brat_. He wondered again why he missed this boy so much when he was away.

Suddenly finding himself with a lack of reasons to procrastinate, he allocated himself back to his chair and focused on reading through a few more documents. He was able to push through the info on the merchant ships, and then he started in on some political conflict between the neutral planets, none of which seemed to have anything to do with him. By the second time he found himself drooling on the ink, he figured it was high-time to call it a night. He'd be more productive and fresh in the morning anyways.

Shuffling the documents into a pile, he stood and stretched, noticing that Anakin hadn't moved hardly at all – he still had his head down in his notes, a frustrated scowl on his face.

"I'm going to turn in for the night, Anakin. Are you almost done?"

"Hmmm?" it seemed to take the padawan a moment to register what he'd been asked, but then he looked up at Obi Wan, blue eyes duller than usual, "Oh, yeah. Good night, Master. I've just got to finish up this assignment, and then I'm going to head to bed too."

For the first time since he'd been back to the apartment, Obi Wan noticed the circles around his apprentice's eyes, the way he seemed to slump forward into himself. Maybe Anakin hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he'd been working all day.

Obi Wan felt the beginnings of all-too-familiar concern well in his chest, and he forced it back down. _Perhaps_, he berated himself, _you are focusing on Anakin's problems so that you don't have to focus on your own._

And, whatever the case, his padawan was old enough to handle it himself. He'd survived just fine on his own for the past two weeks, hadn't he?

Brushing off the slight unease, he headed down the hallway towards his room and some much anticipated deep sleep.

**-((LINEBREAK))-**

_BANG!_

Apparently not deep enough.

Obi Wan startles awake, scanning the room rapidly for signs of danger, momentarily forgetting that he isn't still out in space on a mission.

His groggy mind takes a minute to catch up to him, and when it does he turns to the clock, appalled by the numbers that stare back at him. 2:15. In the morning. Great.

He flops back on to the bedsheets, convinced that what had woken him was nothing more than lingering nerves and adrenaline from the mission. He just needs to rest, finally, and then all this stuff will go back to normal and he won't feel like a dead fish while just existing.

_BmmBANG!_

He swings his legs out of the bed, hand curling easily around the lightsaber that he keeps under his pillow. So much for that plan.

He reaches out to the force before venturing out of his bedroom, but he doesn't sense any danger so he keeps his lightsaber sheathed and places it in the pocket of his robe. It's not unusual for there to be sounds around his apartment at night, as both he and his apprentice have been known to keep odd hours. But Anakin had said he was going to bed – and that had been at least 3 hours ago.

He peeks into his apprentice's room anyways, half expecting to see the teenager up and working on one of his mechanical projects (the room is littered with droid parts and electrical wires – and really that's a safety hazard but Obi Wan doesn't have the _energy_ to address that anyways) and the other half expects the boy to be conked out in bed, sound asleep. Obi Wan is surprised when neither of these things turn out to be the case.

Mildly alarmed, he heads out into the kitchen – where the source of the shuffling is identified.

Anakin is balancing on one foot by the counter, a steaming mug clutched in his right hand while he reaches up with his left to hold a glass inside the cabinet. It teeters dangerously close to the ledge, and Anakin is just barely tall enough to keep his fingertips against it and prevent it from taking a fatal fall. There's another glass – or what's left of it – on the floor below him. Obi Wan guesses that that one wasn't so lucky.

Anakin wobbles ever-so-slightly in his awkward position, and the glass rolls out of his grip and plummets. Anakin curses, almost dropping his other cup in his haste to reach it, but Obi Wan doesn't even have to move to catch it with the Force.

Anakin regains his balance and looks at the floating glass for a long moment before turning to stare at his master. "Oh," he says, bringing his still-steaming mug to his chest and cupping it with both hands, "It's you."

"Yes," Obi Wan says patiently, "Who else would it be?"

When it becomes obvious that Anakin isn't going to do it, Obi Wan steps forward and plucks the glass out of the air, replacing it neatly in the cabinet where it belongs. He makes a point to look down at the shards on the floor and then back to his padawan. "I see that this glass had some unfortunate brethren."

Again, it takes Anakin just a bit too long to catch on, and Obi Wan finds himself frowning. "Oh," the teenager mutters, shuffling his feet among the shards, "Oh, man, I'm sorry. I-I'll clean it up."

He sets his mug down on the counter and makes for the broom closet, but Obi Wan puts a hand on his arm to stop him. "Anakin."

"Hmm?"

"Is that coffee?"

"Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry I woke you, Master," the boy sighs, "I was trying to reach for the creamer, but I had the mug in my hand and the glass…" he trails off, "well, you saw."

"Anakin, why are you making coffee at 2 in the morning?"

He lets Anakin's arm free and the boy resumes his shuffling to the linen closets, pulling out their small broom and dustpan, "I'm tired."

"I would hope so, considering the hour. But I can think of something that you may want to do before resorting to coffee."

Anakin pauses mid-sweep and looks up at him, eyes bright. In nothing but the moonlight shining through the window, his face is startlingly pale. "What?" he asks, genuinely intrigued.

"Go to _bed_."

The kid has the nerve to blink at him, then just continues sweeping, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Can't, I still have work to do."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No – if I don't have it for class, Master Shaak Ti will have my head."

The glass shards are making a scraping sound as Anakin drags them against the tile into the pan. Obi Wan is starting to become acutely aware that he has a headache.

_To hell with it_, he_ needs to go to bed._

"Master Shaak Ti can take it up with me, and I'll tell him to excuse your tardy work - just this once - on account of your incessant meddling is making it impossible for me to sleep."

Anakin visibly winces, "Sorry, Master."

That thing in Obi Wan's chest flares up again, and he quickly writes it off as irritation. He wishes the kid would stop apologizing.

Instead of replying, he grabs the handle of the broom before Anakin can attempt another swipe. The floor is clean anyways – has been for a few good moments now. "Leave it. I'm going to go back to sleep now, and I strongly suggest you do the same. I will vouch for you with the work for Shaak Ti – but I will not vouch for you if you pass out during training tomorrow, do you understand?"

Anakin grins at him, "Yes, Master."

_Thank the Force._ He doesn't have the energy for one of their usual arguments tonight.

Obi Wan gives the teen another brief nod before walking briskly back to his room. It's all he can do not to jog – the soft mattress is basically calling his name. But he pauses outside the door and calls over his shoulder – "Anakin!"

"Yeah?"

"Put that coffee in the fridge!"

A laugh, "Yes, Master."

**-((LINEBREAK))-**

When he wakes up the coffee mug is empty in the sink and Anakin is asleep in his chair, head hanging back at what looks like a painful angle. Obi Wan grimaces in sympathy but doesn't have time to linger – instead yelling at the kid to 'get up or he'll be late for classes'. He takes a second to make sure that his padawan is at least moving before he ducks out the door and joins the hustle-and-bustle of the Coruscant morning, a briefcase full of unfinished reports tucked under his arm.

**-((LINEBREAK))-**

It's not until the next night, when he's awoken at 3:43am by muffled cursing, that he really starts to become concerned.

He walks out of his room and his apprentice is kneeling on the floor on one knee, his arm wrapped around his other leg protectively. Obi Wan is instantly alert. "What happened?"

Anakin looks up at him and groans, "Ugh. Sorry I woke you. I ran into the table with my knee. It's no big deal."

It _is_ a big deal, Obi Wan realizes, but not because of the knee. It's not very dark in their apartment – there's a full moon outside. And even if vision had been the problem – Anakin is a master of the Force. He should have _sensed_ the dining table long before it knocked him over.

"Go to sleep, Anakin. It's too late for you to be up."

"I can't."

"I already told you, I'll help you get caught up on schoolwork during the day."

Anakin just gives him a small smile and shakes his head, "It's not that. I mean I just _can't_ sleep."

The plan comes together in his mind quickly after that.

**-((LINEBREAK))-**

"Hey, Bant!" Obi Wan catches the young mon calamari's attention the next day in the hallway, hiding behind a nearby pillar so the other Jedi don't see him lingering around. Bant looks around herself for a moment, confused, and he impatiently knocks his boot against the dry wall to alert her to his presence.

She does a double take when she sees him crouched behind the pillar. "Obi Wan?! What are you doing?"

There's a large group of masters rounding the corner from where the elevators are, and Obi Wan gestures frantically for her to join him behind his protective barrier. She gives him another inquisitive look and then does so, tucking the few medical books that she was carrying under her arm.

He nods to her with a sheepish smile and gestures to the hallway adjacent to them - it's a service route, one used mostly by droids - and he thinks it'll give them the privacy he needs for this conversation.

"What are you doing?" Bant repeats once the usual sounds of the temple have faded slightly.

Obi Wan runs a hand through his hair, realizing for the first time that he probably dragged her away while she was headed toward the healing halls, or a class, or some other important place. He's also realizing for the first time how ridiculous this whole thing will sound out loud.

What can he say - '_Hey, Bant, I know you're busy and everything and I'm sorry to bother you, but can you get me some sleeping pills so that I can dose my unsuspecting padawan?"_

He bites his lip, "Uh-nothing. I just wanted to see you."

That sounds even worse. And more suspicious. _Way to go, Kenobi._

Bant's eyebrows shoot up to the top of her forehead, "Uh huh? Why is that, Obi? You gonna tell me what's really going on?"

He finds himself grinning at her, for everything they've argued about in the past, Bant Eerin has always been able to read him like a book. But he's supposed to be 'the negotiator', and he's not one to back away from the chance to test his own interpersonal skills.

He clears his throat and gives her his most placating smile, "You got me. I did want to ask you for a...small favor."

She smirks, "Figured. What is it?" She glances back over her shoulder, back towards the main hall, "I've got to get going, Master Fisto's waiting on me..."

"Right," Obi Wan nods, "I'm sorry to interrupt you like this. It's just-"

He hesitates, feels guilty for lying to someone who's always believed him so faithfully- "I haven't been sleeping lately."

He decides that's a half-truth. He really hasn't been sleeping, at least not well. Even when he's alone, he's plagued by the usual nightmares and insomnia over his duties, and at the apartment he's kept awake by Anakin's rustling around. Just because it's not as bad as it could be - as it _was_ \- doesn't mean it's a blatant lie.

Bant's gaze softens slightly, and she looks him up and down quickly, like she doesn't want him to notice. But he knows her pretty well too - and he can see the way she's going through a mental medical check-list, sizing him up for any kind of physical symptoms. He feels another pang of guilt, plunges on, "I was hoping, you know, that you could help me out again?"

The healer-apprentice nods, "Of course. I think Master Fisto has your old prescription on file, so you won't have to come in or anything like that," she winks at him, "And it'll be completely legal."

Obi Wan winces, _almost_.

Bant glances back towards the main hall again, taking a step away from him. "I can bring the pills to you tonight at dinner?" She holds up a hand to stop him from protesting, "And I'll be secretive about it. I know you don't want the whole Temple to know about your health. And I don't blame you. I'd give you the usual spheel about sleeping pills, but I know you know the drill."

She pauses in her back-stepping and gives him a pointed-look. Obi Wan scrambles to keep up mentally, his mind preoccupied with trying to come up with what he would say if the council members _did_ happen to see that particular exchange. "O-Oh, yes. Take as little as possible. Don't rely on them - I do remember 'the drill' as you say."

Bant gives him another judgmental look, eyebrow raised, "and _lay down _afteryou take them, Obi, please. I know how you operate and I do _not_ want a repeat of what happened last time, you hear?"

Obi Wan does smile at that, remembering the irritated look on Bant's face when he'd woken up in the healing hall, with a bandage around his skull and a headache the size of the Andromeda system. "Yes, doctor."

She rolls her eyes at him, finally rounds the corner so that she's back into the normal hallway through the main temple. He pauses behind his pillar again, still not wanting to have to explain to Mace Windu or another nosy individual just what he's doing in this area on his off-day. "Thank you, Bant," he calls after her, "I owe you one, really."

She scoffs, glancing over her shoulder, "More than one, but I guess I've lost count. I'll see you tonight."

He smiles and turns to leave, but her voice stops him. "And Obi Wan?"

"Hmm?"

"You take care of yourself, alright?"

He swallows, feeling bad that he's made his friend worry. "Always, Bant. Thank you."

He takes the long route back to his quarters, thinking about what he's just set in motion and how he could fix it if it came down to it. He could tell Bant that he doesn't need the drugs, that he's feeling better and wants to give it another go for a natural night of sleep - but that would feel like just stretching the lie longer.

And, as good as he is at hiding his own afflictions (injuries, illness, whatever) Bant is just as good at getting him to fess up to them. He feels that if he tried to pull one on her, lead her to what he wanted her to believe using a few half-truths and clever words, she'd see right through him to the real issue immediately.

The real issue being Anakin, and that's a whole can of worms he can't afford to open. Of the few topics he and Bant had fought about in the past, his padawan was the main one. And he doesn't need the kid's issues getting back to the council, or anyone else, for that matter. People already distrusted Anakin, had doubted him since he'd been just a boy. Any word of weakness in him and his very position here would be cast under scrutiny again.

Obi Wan heads back towards the padawan tower and consigns himself to following through with the plan as simply and quickly as possible. One dose is all he needs - he just needs Anakin to get one good night of sleep. The rest he can work with.

**-((LINEBREAK))-**

"What's your opinion on mechanic droids?" Anakin asks, looking up at his master with a serious look.

Obi Wan glances back at him across the table. They've been sitting here for the last hour, Obi Wan finally pushing through the last of his (now overdue) mission reports, and Anakin typing something on his holopad. The older Jedi ponders for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Anakin sets his pad down and runs a hand through his hair. Obi Wan pretends not to notice the slight shake in its movement. "I mean, using droids to build other droids. Don't you think that's kind of inhumane?"

Obi Wan stifles a sigh. He's got more important things to worry about tonight than getting into philosophical arguments with his apprentice. "I haven't given it much thought, why?"

Anakin gestures to his pad, "I'm having to write a paper about modern star-ship technologies. And you know what I found out? At least half of Coruscant's service vessels are produced by droid labor alone."

"Ok. Yes, and?"

"And don't you think that's a little unfair?"

Fine. He'll bite. "Why would that be unfair?"

"Because the droids don't have any say! They're just programmed and told to work their whole life without even a reason why!"

The response he wants to give is _'they're droids, Anakin'_, but he knows from years of living with the boy that that will not go over well. This kind of thing – forced labor – hits a nerve with Anakin. And the kid's always been fond of droids.

On another night, Obi Wan would've rose to the challenge and picked a fight. But not now – not while they're both so tired and his plan is at stake. He fingers the small bottle in his pocket. Yes, he's going to have to pick his battles tonight.

"Human mechanics work on droids too, Anakin. Is it unfair to them?"

"It's different and you know it!"

"Fine," he puts his hands up placatingly, stepping back from the table, "You should write that in your essay. But just don't expect it to change anything. Written statements hardly do – believe me, I've tried."

Anakin snatches his pad back off the table, brow furrowed in frustration. "Yeah, tell me about it. Seems like the only thing that actually gets people to change is violence."

And boy, isn't that a can of worms that any reasonable Jedi master would take as a teaching opportunity? Too bad Obi Wan has long since given up on being a good master.

Instead, he walks into the kitchen and starts gathering supplies. Saucepan, tomatoes, chicken. And of course, salt and pepper. The more spices, the less likely it'll be for any abnormal flavor to get through.

"What are you making?"

"Stew," Obi Wan replies absent-mindedly, setting some water to a boil on the stove.

"Since when do you make _stew_?"

Sigh. "I do know how to cook, Anakin, thank you. Aren't you supposed to be studying?"

Luckily, the teen heeds that advice and has his head down for the remainder of the time Obi Wan spends preparing the meal, and then long enough for him to casually sprinkle the contents of one of his little pill capsules into a bowl.

He gives a quick stir, eyes both bowls to make sure they look the same, and then takes a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._

Anakin looks at him for a long moment when he puts the food down, and for a second he's sure that the kid is on to him, but his apprentice just smiles and takes a bite.

"You know, for someone who 'does know how to cook', your seasoning leaves something to be desired."

"And for someone who just sat there and _watched_ me cook, your attitude sure does as well."

Anakin laughs and keeps eating. And Obi Wan lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Phase 1 complete. All he has to do now is convince the kid to go to bed – or at least make sure he doesn't drown in his soup if he falls asleep at the table. If he remembers correctly from his own experience, these things kick in pretty fast.

Except it doesn't work like that. Because 5 minutes pass. Then 10. Then an hour. And Anakin is once again typing away on his essay about droids and he looks tired – but no more tired than he had an hour ago when Obi Wan had drugged him.

For a terrifying moment, he thinks that maybe he gave _himself_ the dosed bowl instead. But no. If that was the case – he'd surely be feeling the effects. So what was it then? A placebo? He entertains the thought that maybe Bant had been giving him blanks all along.

But then Anakin yawns, and props his head up on one hand, eyelids drooping against the light of his holopad. So not that either.

The kid stands up rather abruptly and sways, but he's steadied himself against the table before Obi Wan can even move to help him.

"I'm gonna make some coffee."

"I don't think so." Obi Wan shoots back immediately. Not only is it 10 at night, he's pretty sure that mixing sleeping pills and caffeine is a recipe for disaster. And, even though Anakin doesn't know he's taking the pills, persay, he should still be blamed for choosing such self-destructive behavior.

Really, Obi Wan should've seen this coming. When had his padawan ever done things the easy way?

Anakin blinks at him. "What?"

"It's late, Anakin. You shouldn't drink coffee right now."

"Ok. But…I'm going to."

Obi Wan steps in front of him to block the entrance to the kitchen. The teen lets out a long sigh, "Are you seriously going to try to stop me?"

"I'm not going to _try_."

"Master-"

"Anakin."

Anakin throws his hands up, "Fine. _Force_, what are you, my mother?"

"If I was your mother, I'd tell you to go to bed, too."

"Ha. Ha."

"I'm not kidding, Anakin."

The kid seems to miss a step on his way back to his seat, stumbling slightly. Obi Wan reaches out and grabs him around the arm. "Hey-".

Anakin bats his hand away, "I'm fine."

Obviously not. Bant's words, and his own unfortunate experience with these sleeping pills come back to him. 'Lay down after use'. He's beginning to think that this whole thing was a bad idea.

He should have realized just who he was dealing with here. Time for Plan B.

"Come on," he urges, gesturing towards their living room, "If you're going to stay up studying, you might as well be studying something useful."

Anakin raises an eyebrow at him, but follows him into the larger room none-the-less, collapsing heavily into the couch as soon as he gets to it. "Whatever you're thinking, Master - stop thinking it. I told you-" he protests weakly, "I have to write that essay."

"And I'm telling you – you have to do _this_."

He can tell that Anakin is glaring at him but he doesn't turn around to look, instead racking his brain for something in this room that he can use as a teaching aid in the next two seconds.

"What is 'this' exactly?"

_Ah, perfect._ He yanks it out from its storage place – wedged behind some old textbooks, and shakes the dust off, brandishing it proudly. "This."

Anakin raises an eyebrow at him, but obviously he's too tired to put up a real fight, cause he just lets his shoulders slump defeatedly and mutters, "_Now_?"

"Yes, padawan," Obi Wan says gleefully, setting the little projector in the center of the room and then plugging in the power cord, "It is never the wrong time for a master to pass on important teachings to his student."

"And let me guess - your teaching is more important than Master Shaak Ti's? And my essay, huh?"

"Absolutely." Obi Wan agrees, turning on the projector and switching off the lights before joining his padawan on the couch.

"Of course it is," the boy mutters, as the little machine sputters to life, "But if you could, please keep your enlightening wisdom within 10 minutes; I've got to write this paper."

Obi Wan opens his mouth to give a retort, but then the projector comes fully to life, lighting the room around them and painting their ceiling with stars and planets. He finds himself smiling, caught up in nostalgia. Before they'd allowed younglings in to see the big galaxy map in the Temple library, this galaxy projector was what Qui Gon had used to teach him about the geography of the universe.

And, despite Anakin's reluctance, Obi Wan can tell that it awes him too. For one, the boy is suddenly silent, his body slumping further into the couch as he stares up at the stars. "Woah," he hums out, "impressive."

Obi Wan smiles, allowing himself to lean back into the cushions as well, so that he can get a full view of the makeshift universe without straining his neck. "Isn't it?" he whispers. "One day, you'll get to be out there with me. On every mission. But for now, we have this."

Anakin doesn't reply, so Obi Wan just keeps talking, naming planets and describing the ones he's been too – giving anecdotes about missions he's been on and missions he's heard about from others. He's about two minutes into a story about Qui Gon Jinn and a giant space worm, when he realizes that Anakin's breathing has evened out into a slow pattern, his head slumped into the cushion. He's fast asleep.

Obi Wan grins, only to himself in the dark room. He finds he doesn't feel like such a bad teacher after all.

**A/N: Geez these things just keep getting longer. Somebody needs to stop me. Or not.**

**Oh one more thing, if anybody's got a prompt or something they'd like to see from the next chapter, hit me up. I'm wanting to set it sometime right after 'Attack of the Clones'. I'm having trouble coming up with ideas, so inspiration would be appreciated. But if not, I'm sure I can think of something stupid, cheesy, and hurt/comfort-y to write about Star Wars. It's not like I don't spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about it every day. Ha. Thanks for reading!**


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